


Spoilt Brat

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Banter, Cute, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 23:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14987498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Stephen is barely ever permitted to read in peace.





	Spoilt Brat

**Author's Note:**

> Filling a request for some light-hearted Loki/Strange.

“I’m busy,” Stephen says, tartly. He says it as soon as he feels the magic around him, flowing through the room,  _disturbed_. Loki’s energy has a distinct flavour to it, ancient and all-encompassing, spreading about him in a natural web, and he hears Loki chuckle, although he cannot feel his physical form.   


“You should take a break,” a voice, disembodied and yet accompanied by cool breath, murmurs against the back of his ear. “You’ll strain your eyes, sitting in the dark and reading these musty old tomes.”  


“There is perfectly adequate lighting.” Every candle in the room goes out, and Stephen presses his lips together, snapping the book shut.

“ _Oops_ ,” Loki says. “I suppose we’ll  _have_ to go get dinner now. Shall I tell Wong, or will you?”  


“You are a spoilt  _brat_. Has anybody ever told you that?” Loki fades slowly into physicality, his legs wrapped around Stephen’s waist and his hands on Stephen’s chest. His lips, painted black and shining in the dim light that comes from the crack beneath the closed door, quirk into the  _smallest_  of smirks.  


“I am a god, worshiped across twelve star systems, on twenty-seven planets.  _No_ , Stephen. Nobody has ever called me a  _spoilt brat_.” Loki’s tone is measured and even, and it drips with amusement.   


“They should.” Loki shoves the book aside, tipping it onto the ground, and Stephen inhales, taking in the scent of  _seidr_ , of the fruity scent of whatever shampoo Loki’s taken to using on earth, of the acid tang of some cologne he’s wearing, made from the citrus fruit from a planet unknown. 

“Dinner?” Loki asks again. They’re chest to chest, Loki’s arms wound around Stephen’s neck, and Stephen drops his pretense: his hands settle on Loki’s hips, and he lets Loki’s lips capture his own, feels the wax of the lipstick touch against his mouth, but never stain it. He doesn’t know if it’s magic, or simply a high-end brand.   


“Fine,” Stephen murmurs, and he feels Loki grin against his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/ask). Requests always open.


End file.
